


Half of What You See

by CloudAtlas



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Geek References!, POV Original Character, Pre-Series, Stanford Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-17
Updated: 2013-04-17
Packaged: 2017-12-08 18:35:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/764685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CloudAtlas/pseuds/CloudAtlas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In her first year of college a rumour went around about a guy on the floor above her who'd turned up with only two bags, a laptop and the clothes on his back. Which is, y’know, odd, but whatever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My friend Jenna wanted me to sign up for NaNoWriMo with her. I laughed and said no and then wrote this _for no apparent reason_. Seriously, I’m as surprised as the next person. Crossposted from my LJ. Additional notes at the end. 
> 
> Thanks to [hells_half_acre](http://archiveofourown.org/users/hells_half_acre/works) and Jenna for betaing.
> 
> Title from Heard it Through the Grapevine and is weirdly better out of context than in.

**FALL (2002)**

In her first year of college a rumour went around about a guy on the floor above her dorm who’d arrived with only two bags, a laptop and the clothes on his back. Which is, y’know, odd, but whatever. Two days later a drunk Marcy Green streaked down the hall naked and everyone agreed that was _much_ more interesting.

-:|:-

Stanford was a trip; Amy hadn’t really been outside of Michigan before now. OK so that was bull. She’d been to Europe with her family a couple of times and the Bahamas with high school friends this summer but… she hadn’t been to many places further west of the Great Lakes than Madison, Wisconsin to see her mum’s friend get married when she was 11. She’d never been to the West Coast. She’d never seen the Pacific Ocean.

And now she was almost 4000 miles from home and everything was new.

But her dorm looked OK, she’d picked some awesome electives and her roommate was “Elle from Boulder, Colorado” and seemed pretty cool – if the world map and Lord of the Rings poster were anything to go by. Apart from the fact that she was fairly sure she was going to miss her dad’s cooking like burning, she was pretty stoked.

She had been in American Folklore 101 for three weeks before she noticed him – and then only because he had sneezed so loudly the professor actually paused and asked him if he was alright – but once she did notice she couldn’t stop staring.

Amy would have liked to think that she was not a particularly shallow person, and really, most of the time she wasn’t. But there was just something about him; maybe it was his eyes.

But it wasn’t just his eyes; once she’d begun noticing him, she began noticing other things as well. Like, sometimes he’d pull this face as if the TA had got it all wrong, which was odd because American Folklore was not something people tended to know a lot about. But he was polite with his questions and deferred to the TAs knowledge, even when she could see he still didn’t agree.

For one project, they were put into groups. Amy wasn’t put into a group with him (more’s the pity – she wasn’t shallow, but she also wasn’t _blind_ ) but she could see him from where she sat. He spoke earnestly and when he smiled you could lose fingers in his dimples.

  
 **WINTER (2002/2003)**

Sophie was sure that one of the guys on the floor above kept a knife under his bed; “The tall quiet one. Shares with Tim.” Amy didn’t really know what to think of that. For starters it probably wasn’t true, and it’s not like she knew who Sophie was talking about; there were a lot of ‘tall quiet ones’ on the floor above and she didn’t even know who Tim was. Amy didn’t like the floor above (she didn’t like Sophie much either, come to that); half were recluses and half complete fuckers. She paid them all as little attention as possible, apart from when the idiots at the end played music too loud and Charlie went up to yell at them.

-:|:-

Elle had seen a poster for some exhibition of… someone or other, Amy didn’t really know, in downtown Palo Alto one Friday in January, so she’d agreed to go. But now it was raining and she was getting to the point of giving up. Elle hadn’t thought to print out a map and they’d kept turning onto the same road over and over and over again, just from different angles. It would have been funny if her feet didn’t hurt so much and if she wasn’t wet through. Dammit! She went hiking in the forests of Michigan! Her feet should be able to cope with this. Stupid hard sidewalks.

“Jesus Elle, can we just like, stop for coffee or something? I’m soaked. And cold.”

Elle was looking around, frowning and shaking water off her cuff. “You know, I think it’s that street again.” It was. Neither of them knew what “that street” was actually called. In fact, they didn’t want to know. It would forever become known as That Street and they would focus all their frustrations on it from this point on. “Oh but look, there’s your coffee shop. Happy?”

At least That Street had coffee.

They trudged past a group of college students huddled under the awning and made their way into the crowded interior where Elle immediately – and in a rather undignified manner – secured them a small table with two comfy chairs right by the window by crying “I call shotgun!” and vaulting over the back of the nearest chair. Amy rolled her eyes and went to get their drinks; coffee for her and a hot chocolate with all manner of sugary and artery clogging things in it for Elle. Why she needed so much sugar Amy wasn’t sure, Elle was high on _life_.

Amy was just taking her first much needed sip of coffee when her eyes landed on the group of students sat on the other side of the window (why why why? It was raining! Why sit outside?). Her eyes went wide and her heart did that little lurch that happened when seeing someone completely unexpected.

Once American Folklore was done she figured that she wouldn’t see that guy again – the one with the dimples. What were the chances, really? The student body was huge and she was fairly sure he wasn’t a straight up Humanities student. Yeah, he’d taken American Folklore, but he also looked like someone who would become successful and filthy rich but you couldn’t hate him for it because he had That Kind Of Face. He was probably going to become a lawyer or a doctor or a politician or something.

But there he was, four feet away, chatting with some black dude, a pretty blonde, a loud redhead and two guys who looked like frat boys but who were – as far as she could tell – having a heated discussion about the Middle East. He was smiling like crazy and _dude,_ the _dimples_!

Elle looked confused. “What’s up? Mad axe murderer? Ex-boyfriend? Oh my God! Nathan Fillion!?”

If anyone was wondering, yes, Elle had written in to complain when FOX had cancelled Firefly. She loved Nathan Fillion with a burning passion and dreamed of bumping into him in Palo Alto. Amy thought that the likelihood was pretty low.

“No Elle. It’s not Nathan Fillion. More screaming would be involved if it were.”

“OK so, what?”

Dimples was being punched on the arm by the blonde girl and Frat Boy One was possibly trying to defend his honour. There was flailing and Dimples was grinning like this was the best thing ever. Suddenly someone’s coffee toppled over and Dimples ended up with it in his lap. The black guy was pissing himself and the blonde girl yelled, loud enough to hear through the window “that’ll teach you to steal all our money!” to which he replied “it’s not my fault you suck at poker!” and the table descended into madness and maybe, possibly, Dimples was a poker shark. Amy couldn’t tell.

Elle was looking at them now. “What? What’s so interesting?”

“It’s that guy. From American Folklore.”

“Hey niiiiiice. I approve. Go for it, tiger.”

“Shut up Elle.”

 _Totally not stalking_ Amy reminded herself – even if she did feel a little like a creeper – _just a random coincidence._

  
 **SPRING (2003)**

One night, Warren was pretty far gone when he began spewing out everything he’d ever heard on the Stanford Rumour Mill. There was the usual – who’d slept with whom, Tammy from Santa Fe was probably doing coke, that kid from the UK was _definitely_ (“No really! I swear!”) screwing his Botany lecturer etc. etc. _ad infinitum_ – and then there was the one about the guy in his friend’s Chem class who’d been praised by the paramedics for his handling of some _utter moron_ who’d spilt acid on himself. What kind of Grade A moron spills acid on himself?

-:|:-

Amy had picked two ‘fun’ electives in her first year. Not that she didn’t like the other classes she was taking, just these two were the ones she picked for the Ooh That Looks Fun But Not Useful In Any Way factor. American Folklore was the first. Obviously. Because who _didn’t_ want to learn about creepy stories from around the States? And the other course was British Cinema.

Apparently it was an experimental course. This class was the guinea pig and it was obvious from the coursework. The whole thing was a mess. But still, it was several hours a week where she was actually academically obliged to watch British movies and write about them. Basically, she was getting a grade for her day to day life. It was awesome.

They watched Charlie Chaplin and ‘Carry On’ movies, ‘Kitchen Sink’ dramas and Hammer Horror; _The Wicker Man_ , _Monty Python’s Life of Brian_ , _Chariots of Fire_ ; ‘quirky’ British rom coms (OK so she wasn’t a fan of those so much) and British Indie movies; _Quadrophenia_. _Don’t Look Now. Billy Elliot_.

Admittedly, they didn’t watch all those movies _as a class_. Half of them she watched for the hell of it.

And some she watched with Jess.

Amy was paired up with Jess for a presentation about ‘a British movie of your choice – just not _Notting Hill,_ I hate that movie’ and they had hit it off immediately. They weren’t best friends or anything, but both she and Amy shared a love of movies that ensured that when the little cinema off campus was showing classic British movies for those two weeks in March, they went together as many times as possible. Hence many of the Hammer Horrors’ and _Don’t Look Now_. Oh, and _Brassed Off_.

This time it was _Billy Elliot_. Jess had in fact seen it before, but had enjoyed it enough to see it again with Amy. She liked the gay best friend. Amy wanted to see it because _hello!_ Julie Walters was a legend. They’d gone to the 2.45pm showing, after Amy had finished with Global Development and Jess had finally got out of her two hour Biology lab. Occasionally other students came, especially if it happened to be a movie that was a class requirement, but more often than not it was just the two of them, sometimes buying overpriced popcorn, but always sitting in the middle and going to a coffee house after to shoot the shit.

Jess found Amy’s geekiness highly entertaining.

It wasn’t malicious; mostly it just wasn’t Jess’ thing. But she seemed to find it endlessly entertaining to watch Amy go off on one about the Lord of the Rings, or Arthur C. Clark, or how she wished she knew more about comics (“I am the lamest geek ever! I don’t even know who Nightwing is! Do you know who Nightwing is? I feel this is something I need to work on – an expansion of my geek-ness. I will expand into comics and… Terry Pratchett. Though that’s a lot of books…”) or, more recently, why FOX were morons for cancelling Firefly.

“But it was so good Jess! It was… did you watch it?”

Jess smiled a smile that Amy knew would lead to disappointment. “No.”

“Jess!” Amy whined. “Why? Why didn’t you watch it? It was brilliant! It was glorious! It was TV at its finest! Why, Jess? Why?”

“I didn’t know about it. I think the only thing I watch that’s close to something you’d watch is Smallville.”

“Eh, Smallville’s OK I guess.”

“Um… hello? Tom Welling is a little more than OK.”

Amy slapped her hand down on the table excitedly. “See! That’s my point!”

Amy talks with her hands when she’s enthusiastic. There’s a lot of flailing. It’s a thing.

“There was no point to this, Amy.”

“Shut up, yes there was. It was… it was…” Amy cast around wildly.

“FOX are morons?” prompted Jess, after a few seconds.

“Yes! And sci-fi/fantasy always gets the hottest guys. And girls for that matter.”

Jess laughed. “That was so not part of the original conversation.”

“Yes it was, you brought it up! Tom Welling remember?” Jess just looked amused. “No really. Like, Aragorn! Aragorn is hot. And Legolas. Well not really. Not to me. But some people like him! And then all the X Men! Hugh Jackman! And… the other ones! But it’s not just that. Like, loads of people suffer under this delusion that superhero films are all about spandex, and fantasy is all about magic and swords and sci-fi is all about spaceships.”

Jess laughed. “I’m lost, what are you talking about now?”

“Common misconceptions of geeky things! They’re about more than that! Just cos they’re in space, or wear spandex or have magic shouldn’t detract from the very human stories. It’s…” Amy looked at Jess critically. “I have a whole argument about this. You probably don’t want to hear it. In fact, you didn’t watch Firefly, you don’t deserve my amazing geeky intellect.”

Amy mock-glared as Jess snorted and there was silence for a while as they both drank their coffee and looked out over the street. Then Amy said “Why were we talking about that again?”

Jess’ eyes widened and she barked out a laugh. “I wasn’t talking about anything! You went off on one – as you do – and I just sat here smiling indulgently at my pet geek.”

Amy stuck her tongue out. “Fuck off. You love me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jess put her cup down. “I get it though. It’s like, that’s why Harry Potter is getting to be so popular isn’t it? It’s fundamentally relatable. It’s about a guy in school; a pretty regular guy. You can relate it to yourself, even though your life is far less amazing.”

“Exactly!” Amy exclaimed. “I knew I kept you around for a reason.”

“Aww, you love me though,” Jess sing-songed back. “You keep me around for – hey..!” Her voice dropped. “Check him out. Behind you.”

Jess was looking over Amy’s left shoulder and, as surreptitiously as she could, Amy twisted in her seat to look too. There were two guys standing outside the shop next door, one about six foot with sandy hair and broad shoulders and one slightly smaller, blond with a Batman t shirt and a guitar. Both were pretty easy on the eyes.

“Ooh which one?”

“Well, both. But the taller one really.”

Amy turned back around. “You like the tall, broad shouldered type don’t you? Him,” she gestured over her shoulder, “Tom Welling.”

Jess shrugged, “well, I like guys who are taller than me.”

“Because you’re an Amazon. Figures.”

Jess laughed and threw a napkin at her. “Jesus Amy, you make it out like I’m a freak of nature. I’m 5’11”. I’m not that tall.”

“Hey! Statistically, you’re above average for a woman,” Amy pointed out.

“Yeah well whatever. I like tall, broad shouldered guys. So sue me.” Jess shifted her gaze away from the guys and back to Amy. “What about you? I know you like Nathan Fillion, and one of the hobbits, but what’s your type?”

“Do I have to have a type?” Amy asked.

Jess blinked and frowned, putting her coffee down. “Well, no. I was just wondering.”

“Hey, I’m not mad. I just think it’s a silly idea.” She grinned. “That being said… I like guys with nice smiles. And I like weird things like necks and collar bones and wrists and hipbones. Like, there was this guy when I was doing American Folklore first semester. And like, I didn’t talk to him or anything, but he had about the most amazing smile I have ever seen. And dimples!  And I was sat behind him most of the time so… really nice neck.”

“You’re so weird.”

Amy grinned but didn’t say anything. Jess then sighed and said in mock exasperation “you made up a backstory or something for him, didn’t you?”

“Yes!” Amy grins manically. “OK so; first I made him into some epic saviour of mankind or something, but I thought that that was wildly overambitious so I went for something more realistic.”

“You’re kidding me right? You made up a story about a guy because he had a nice neck, this is in no way going to be realistic.”

Amy arched an eyebrow. “Do you want to hear my epic story or not?” Jess held her hands up in surrender.

“OK so, he’s from a really rich family, but he became disillusioned with the extravagant lifestyle and the rampant greed of those around him. So he left, completely out of the blue, and came here. He’s super smart and pretty quiet, but he wants to help out so – ”

“At night he becomes a caped crusader?” Jess was smirking at her.

Amy rolled her eyes. “Not exactly, but essentially, yes. Anyway, I think he’d look good with firearms. Or throwing knives. No capes though. He’d look ridiculous in a cape.” Amy thought for a second. “He’d be reluctantly badass.” Then she grinned stupidly. “A big damn hero!”

Jess’ expression slid from mocking affection into confusion.

Amy groaned and thunked her head down on the table. “Firefly, Jess! Firefly! God, why am I friends with you? You really need to see it.”

Jess’ expression quickly reverted back to mocking affection and she grinned at Amy. “You did American Folklore with a guy who had a nice neck, so you made a story up about him. A nice neck Amy, a nice _neck_. You’re a special brand of bizarre, you know that right? And I stand by my statement that that story is no more or less ridiculous than Random American Folklore Guy Saves the World.”

“Hey! No mocking! Mine are mysterious ways. And for all you know, he could do. He’s a big damn hero after all.”

Jess grinned. “He was cute though, right?”

Amy sighed. “Yeah, he was cute.”

  
 **FALL (2003)**

When she came back from Michigan for the beginning of her second year, Emma was telling everyone she could about how bad it sucked to have to stay is Des Moines for the entire summer. They put up with her for about two hours before Phil, finally getting pissed off, said “Well, it could be worse, you could have stayed at college all summer like that guy from dorm last year.”

-:|:-

In her second year Amy got a job in the small bookshop on campus. Not because she needed the money, but because she really needed something else to do other than work and sit around listening to Elle and Warren bicker about Star Wars or whatever while she was trying to study. Also because they were hiring and she got _discounted books_.

So, maybe there were actually two bookshops on campus. And maybe she’d waited a year to get a job because the _other one_ wasn’t actually hiring yet. But she wanted discounted Neil Gaiman, not textbooks on feminism and quantum theory. Neil Gaiman _ruled_.

She was put to work in the sci-fi/fantasy section which caused her no end of joy, partly as there were some _massive_ geeks that she had _never met before_ but mostly because there were some really cute geeks around campus. And she’d been missing _those_ in Michigan.

There was a cute Latino looking guy who bought _Deathnote_ , a guy who was working through the entire “History of Middle Earth” books – she really wanted to talk to him but he was _so shy_ she thought she might give him a heart attack just by saying hello – and this one guy who was so brutally attractive that she had no idea what he bought because she _couldn’t stop staring._ It was actually becoming a problem. Amy just didn’t understand how his face worked. He was _unreal_.

And there was Zeke. Well, actually, he wasn’t a sci-fi/fantasy geek. He liked horror and true crime (which she didn’t understand one bit) and apparently wanted to become a grade school teacher, _after_ getting his degree in mathematics (“… cos it’s cool!” “No, no it’s not Zeke”). He was sweet and came from British Colombia and his real name was Theodore and no one, not even he, knew how he ended up with the nickname Zeke. And despite their polar opposite tastes in books and film and TV, he and Amy got on like a house on fire.

Which meant that Amy couldn’t talk to him. Obviously.

Well, clearly she _could_ , if she switched off her brain and handed over to auto-pilot. But that basically sucked, because her auto-pilot; Lord of the Rings, Peter Jackson, Firefly, why-mushrooms-are-the-work-of-the-Devil, facts about the Pacific Ocean, world capitals, Ouagadougou and her thoughts on the upcoming Battlestar Galactica remake. Not, you know, useful things like “Yes I find your face exquisite and I would love to have dinner with you.” On her auto pilot that came out somewhere between a gurgle and a squeak.

So in reality, all the hard won social skills she’d honed in her four years of high school flew out the window when faced with a pretty guy who _actually liked her_.

Hence the gurgle-y squeak when Zeke asked her out for coffee.

Luckily, Zeke thought this was sort of endearing and all was fine until they actually met up at the chosen coffee shop and suddenly it was just _awkward_ again.

Well, that was until Amy thought _fuck it_ and blurted out “do you know that the Pacific Ocean is so large that you can fit all the world’s continents into it, with space for another Africa? And that at its widest it is five times the diameter of the moon?”

Zeke looked at her with a bemused expression. “I’m not sure if I should find it weird that this is your conversation starter, or simply be impressed at the size of the Pacific Ocean.”

“Go for impressed. That way it’s less embarrassing for me.”

Zeke shrugged. “OK. I can do that. Five times the diameter of the moon you say?”

Amy smiled, pleased that her utter social ineptitude hadn’t freaked him out. “Yup. It contains between twenty and thirty thousand islands and is 11km at its deepest point.”

Zeke was beginning to look a little bemused again so Amy just shrugged and said “Hey, it’s my favourite ocean.”

“You have a favourite ocean.” It wasn’t a question.

“I – yeah. I have a favourite ocean. But, it’s cool! And I’m allowed to have interests other than sci-fi and the Lord of the Rings.”

Zeke held his hands up in mock surrender. “Hey, I’m not judging. As far as stereotype-breaking goes, I’m winning with being a social math guy.” He picked up his coffee and took a sip. “Sorry, but you lose.”  Amy scowled at him and he grinned back, unrepentant. 

 _Man_ , he was attractive.

There were only four things about Zeke that got annoying after a while. One, he loved hockey. But she could forgive him that because he was Canadian and what Canadian doesn’t love hockey? Two, he loved true crime documentaries, which wasn’t annoying so much as baffling. Why would you want to know every horrible thing people could do to one another? It was _not_ Amy’s idea of relaxing TV, but Zeke watched every one he could find.

Three, he _really loved_ soccer, especially the British team Manchester United. He’d got into it because he’d gone to school in Spain for two years before coming to the States for college and his best friend there was obsessed with them. One of the reasons Amy found this so annoying was because she wasn’t entirely sure Zeke knew where Manchester was, apart from “in the UK somewhere”. As someone generally interested in the world and where places are, Amy found that really weird. Also because he had to watch every match, and soccer seemed to be nothing more than 22 guys running around after a ball for 90 minutes. Well, to be fair, that could describe most team sports in her opinion. But soccer was so _boring_. At least hockey had people smashing into each other.

The forth though, the forth was the most annoying.

Being a math guy, Zeke took computer science as an elective with the idea that he could minor in it if he enjoyed it enough, which was all fine until they had to do some… well, it had a proper name, but to Amy it was a fancy way of saying “hacking”. Now, Zeke was good with computers and had a competitive streak a mile wide, so when he couldn’t for the life of him get this ‘hacking’ thing to work he consoled himself with the idea that no one else would be able to either and went off to class secure in this supposed.

Of course, he was wrong. It was computer science for Christ’s sake! Massive nerds all round. So obviously a couple of guys had worked it out. But that was fine because they were planning to become computer programmers or video game designers or whatever. That was _fine_.

But there was this one guy who managed it who wasn’t going to do any of those things, who had taken Spanish and English and Creative Writing and God knows what else and _was not a math guy_ and Zeke met up with Amy outside the library fuming about this guy who was _clearly_ a jerk and felon and an all-round douchebag.

And then went on about it for the rest of the week.

“And you know what? It’s remote access!” _Oh, so that’s what it’s called_ , thought Amy. “You know what that’s used for? Hacking! This guy’s probably hacking into the FBI as we speak, getting himself off the hook for a murder in Oklahoma and cancelling the warrant for his arrest over a drugs bust in Montana! Right now Amy!”

Zeke was flailing his arms round – oh hey look, another thing they had in common – but his backstory for this guy was nowhere near as good as Amy’s one for American Folklore Guy. Amy put her pen down and sighed.

“OK Zeke, this stopped being amusing about 3 days ago. Whoever this guy is, he probably isn’t hacking into anywhere, he hasn’t been part of a drugs bust and isn’t wanted by the FBI for murder, in Oklahoma or anywhere else.”

“But you don’t know him Amy!”

“Ok so tell me. This guy, what’s he like?”

“He’s annoying! And… tall. And devious...” Amy could almost see him grasping at straws. “He’s _polite_. No computer science guy is polite unless he needs to be.”

Amy just stared at him for a beat before –

“Holy shit. You’re jealous of a guy who can work this remote hacking thing better than you can.”

Zeke was indignant. “No, I’m not!”

“Yes, Zeke. Yes, you are. It would be funny if it weren’t so middle school.” She picked up her pen again. “Now, can you shut up about it? I have an essay to write, _you_ have some horrible mathsy equationy something or other to do, and then _we_ are going to the cinema and having a fun, computer-science-guy free evening which could end much more excitingly if you dropped this right now. OK?”

Zeke was now looking slightly chastised, but also _interested_ and Amy congratulated herself for the excellent diversionary tactic. She then smirked and said “you could also make me some coffee” and stuck her tongue out at him when he huffed and threw his pen at her.

But he also got up to make coffee. So yeah, this was going great. Just don’t ever mention the computer science guy.

  
 **WINTER (2003/2004)**

Nate managed to convince a load of their friends to go to a shooting range one weekend. Amy didn’t go, guns kind of freaked her out, but Nate came back almost beside himself with joy because Chase “Army brat and dickwad extraordinaire” Cohen had been thoroughly thrashed at every turn by “that guy from Paige’s Chem class last year who was good with the acid. I dunno why he was there, I didn’t invite him, I think he’s a friend of Jeff’s. But you should have seen him Amy! Guy’s a natch!”

“Don’t say ‘natch’ Nate, it’s unbecoming.”

-:|:-

She and Jess didn’t really hang out that much after British Cinema finished. They had a love for odd movies and British comedies but in general, they moved in different circles and didn’t bump into each other all that often. But they’d got on well enough for them to have swapped phone numbers and this is why Amy found herself answering her cell at 9am one Sunday morning in early January to find a stressed-out Jess on the other end.

“Jesus Jess, its 9 a.m. on a fucking Sunday! What!?” OK so that’s not the politest way to answer the phone to someone you haven’t actually talked to face-to-face for about a month, but whatever. She hadn’t had her coffee yet. It was justifiable.

“Nice to hear from you too.”

“Yeah, yeah, sorry. 9 a.m. Not had coffee yet. What’s up?”

“God I…” Jess sighed. “I just need someone to talk to. Someone who’s not involved in this complete fuck up…”

“Fuck. What’s happened, Jess?”

“I… where do you live?” Jess asked, completely blindsiding her. “I mean, you’re off campus right?”

“Um… yeah? Why?”

“Can I come to yours? This isn’t a… I’d just. Can I come to yours? Please?”

Shit. This was serious.

Jess and Amy had never done serious. They weren’t that kind of friends. They’d met in British Cinema for Christ’s sake! They’d go for coffee somewhere after their movie outings and they’d talk about what they’d just watched. They’d trade rumours and swerve into topics like climate change and the next election before coming back round to immature jokes and bad sex stories. It involved Starbucks take-outs and overpriced cake. It was never _serious_.

Amy hadn’t realised it had meant that much. But obviously it had.

“I- yeah sure. I- um. You got a pen?”

When Jess made a noise in the affirmative, Amy rattled off her address and then asked “Are you OK?”

Jess’ laugh was brittle. “Not really, no.” She then murmured her thanks and hung up.

Half an hour later Amy had had a quick shower and a quicker breakfast, had ensured that neither Warren nor Elle were likely to be up any time soon (thank fuck for Saturday night keggers) and was puttering around cleaning stuff away while she waited for Jess to show up.

On seeing Jess’ face, Amy offered her coffee immediately and deliberated for about a second before thinking _fuck it_ and offering her a pair of pyjama bottoms and hustling her into her bedroom. She piled pillows and duvets high enough to obscure a small country and encouraged Jess to snuggle in before grabbing her second cup of coffee and climbing in after her.

“Spill.”

Jess looked tired and worried. In silence she fiddled with her cup before taking a sip and saying “Thanks for the coffee.”

More silence followed before Jess said “Seen any good movies lately?”

Amy got it, she did. They’d never had anything more important to say to each other than that. Whatever this was, it was bigger than anything they’d shared before. They weren’t _that_ close. If Amy had a problem she’d tell Elle, right off the bat. If Jess had a problem, she’d go to… Becky. Becky? Amy thought it would be Becky. Amy wondered why Jess had picked her, of all people.

“Nuh-uh, you aren’t getting out of this that easy. C’mon Jess, spill.”

And she did. Verbal diarrhoea, _everywhere_. Ok so bad mental picture, but basically that’s what it was. She talked about this friend of hers – Brady – who’d come back after Thanksgiving and had been… _off_. She’d been worried. All his friends had. And why wouldn’t you? And it was worse once they’d worked it out. He was doing drugs. They didn’t know what he was doing or where he got it from, but he was on _something_. He was a little more reckless and a little less nice. She’d talked to him, tried to get him to stop, to cut back, to do _anything_ and she thought she’d gotten somewhere – or she and some other friends of his. She’d hoped he would sort himself out over Christmas; had ridden out her whole holiday home in Ohio on that hope. She hadn’t mentioned it to her family because her dad hadn’t wanted her to go to Stanford. He’d thought that she should have accepted her place at Yale instead, and she didn’t want to give him any reason to turn around and say _I told you so_.

But Brady was no different when she’d come back. She’d talked to him again; not nagging or anything, just roundabout questions and long silences, but he’d just laughed.

“‘I’m good’ he’d say. ‘I’m fine, I feel great, don’t worry.’ Well of course I’m going to fucking worry! He’s my friend! I don’t want to watch him go off at the deep end! Jesus, the guy’s driving me insane. He thinks it’s fine, treats it like a joke and you just can’t knock any sense into him. I’ve tried. Me and some of his other friends, we tried but it doesn’t help. I left, Amy. I left his place and I went home and I tried to sleep but all I could think was what if one of my best friends dies in the night because he’s a fucking idiot and overdosed on some heroin cocktail and no one was there to put him in the recovery position and call 911? _God_.”

And Amy wanted to offer comfort, but what could she say? She’d never had to deal with anything like this. Drug abuse was something she read about it books. _I saw it in a movie once_. Well yeah, the movie was _Trainspotting_ and that’s the closest she’d ever got. Jesus. And why did Jess pick her to tell this to?

There was silence for a while and then; “Jesus, Jess.”

“Yeah.”

“I- what do I say? What the hell do I say to this?”

“I don’t want you to say anything. I don’t need anyone to say anything. I just wanted someone to listen. Someone who doesn’t know Brady or anything, who’s not going to turn this ‘round and make it into a guilt trip. You were the first person I thought of… sorry.”

“Hey now, no. Don’t apologise. I don’t mind. I mean. I feel bad cos I can’t help, but I’m happy you were… y’know, comfortable enough to tell me. Or, y’know… Yeah.”

Jess just laid her head on Amy’s shoulder, and they sat there in silence until Warren poked his head around the door going “Hey are you -? Woah wait, you’re a lesbian now? Hi I’m Warren” and mock saluting with a stupid grin.

“Fuck off Warren. This is Jess. Go make us a snack.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Warren saluted again and left, and Jess huffed out a laugh. “Your flatmate is weird.”

“Tell me about it. Guy thinks he’s _hilarious_.”

Jess fidgeted, taking her and Amy’s cups and putting them on the bedside table before sitting back and suddenly grinning.

“So hey, you know, there’s one thing out of all this that actually turned out OK though.”

“Oh yeah? And what’s that? Other than sharing my amazingly comfy bed with me, obviously.”

“Obviously.” She grinned. “One of Brady’s friends is _unbelievably_ cute.”

Amy grinned. This she could deal with. She wiggled her fingers, “Ooh! Do tell!”

Jess laughed. “Oh man. His name is Sam and he’s like, a bazillion feet tall and all dimpled and smiley and hot.”

“A bazillion feet tall? So like, taller than you, Amazon Woman?”

“Shut up, I’m not that tall.”

“Er, yes you are. In heels you dwarf most guys I know.”

“Yeah, in _heels_. And you only know midgets.”

Amy hit her with a pillow. “Fuck off.”

Jess just grinned and hit her back, and soon a violent pillow fight was in progress, knocking notes off desks and pictures off walls and books off bedside tables. The duvet fell of the bed and soon the sheets were twisted and both of them were laughing too hard to carry on. Jess was just shoving Amy off the bed when Warren walked in again with pizza.

“Um guys? You sure you’re not lesbians? Cos I’m fairly sure I saw this in a porno once.”

Amy threw a pillow at him and yelled through the quickly closing door “And don’t eat all the fucking pizza! We’ll be out in a minute and if there ain’t any left I’m going to email your porn to your mom!” and then collapsed laughing onto a giggling Jess as Warren’s horror filtered through the wood.

When the laughter had subsided Jess looked around. “Uh sorry. Sort of made a mess of your room here.”

“Eh don’t worry. More interesting things are afoot.” Amy grinned and looked over at Jess. “So, _Sam_ eh?”


	2. Chapter 2

**SPRING (2004)**

As far as rumours went, the fact that Steve from down the road had got really drunk one night and apparently tried to pick up a drag queen while out in San Francisco was clearly the best. That one had got _everywhere_ – she was pretty sure even some of the professors knew it. The other big one was about some guy who had completely fucking _ninja-d_ some would-be rapist who had threatened his girlfriend one night.

Amy’s comment had been “Huh. And they say that chivalry is dead” but then Elle got locked in their bathroom (again) so she and Warren had to go save her.

-:|:-

It was the end of her second year at Stanford before Amy met Sam. Amy had been hanging out with Jess more after the Brady incident and while both Jess and Amy having boyfriends had meant that they didn’t meet up as much as they promised they would, neither really minded. Obviously. It just meant that when they did, they did that unashamedly girly thing of talking about their boyfriends over hot chocolate and squealing. Amy thought it was rather stupid and being unashamedly girly wasn’t really her thing, but it was fun. Partly because it was infrequent enough to be a novelty and partly because Jess – for all that they didn’t hang out with each other incessantly – was pretty good at telling when Amy was getting weirded out and never minded changing the subject from funny-things-about-our-boyfriends to do-you-want-to-watch- _2001: A Space Odyssey_? To which the answer was always _hell yes_.

(Though on the subject of weird stories, Amy could never understand how “Zeke has this weird thing for European soccer” invited the statement “Sam has all these really odd scars. Like, _all over_. He’s got one on his thigh that looks like a _stab wound_. Not that I’ve ever seen a stab wound before.” Amy had just gaped for a few seconds before going with the first thing that came into her head; “On his _thigh_ , eh?” and wiggling her eyebrows.)

But for Sam’s 21st Jess organised an actual Shebang. She didn’t use that term when talking to Sam because apparently a) Sam wasn’t huge on parties and b) it was a surprise, but Jess loved the word and sent out invitations to Sam’s Surprise 21st Birthday Shebang two weeks before May 2nd. And even though it was after the semester ended, people stayed at Stanford for him, or came back to Stanford for him, because apparently he was that kind of guy.

In reality, it wasn’t a huge party. Jess wasn’t an asshole, she wasn’t going to do something for Sam’s birthday that he wouldn’t actually enjoy, so it was basically a get together of Sam’s closest friends at someone’s brother’s apartment – Amy wasn’t clear on the whole thing really. Amy had been invited, along with Elle and Warren (and Zeke, but he’d had to go home as soon as college finished for some reason or another, which sucked), because Jess wanted them to meet Sam too. And because “we need one wildly inappropriate guy there and Warren fits the bill.”

Amy also suspected that it was so she would know more people than just Jess. By some weird quirk of fate Amy hadn’t met any of Jess’ friends yet, only her roommate who Jess didn’t really get on with all that well.

Anyway, all this meant that she was in some random guy’s apartment off campus surrounded by a load of people she didn’t know – though now she could put a face to the drama that was Brady – waiting to sing happy birthday to Sam as soon as Jess brought him through the door. There was cake and candles and alcohol and music and of course Amy’s whole body got put on pause when Dimples walked through the door and everybody burst into song.

The majority of Amy’s mind shut down to make way for mad flailing, but a very small part of her was going “well fancy that” in Hugh Grant’s voice. It was creepy. She didn’t like Hugh Grant. Like, at all. And _Jess is going out with Dimples?_ Holy fuck.

Dimples – sorry, _Sam_ – looked embarrassed and pleased and had this smile on his face like he couldn’t believe he got to have this. It was utterly adorable and increased by a billion when he looked at Jess. And it would be sweet if Amy wasn’t flailing internally because Jess was grinning like mad and leading Sam over to where Amy was standing, introducing them with an “Amy, Sam. Sam, Amy,” and looking happier than Amy had ever seen her.

In this situation, what Amy should have done was say “Hi, pleased to meet you. Jess talks about you all the time,” and not at all mention that he was the guy she’d sort of had a crush on in first year.

This is not what happened.

Instead, Amy made a weird strangled sound before saying “So Jess, remember when I told you about the cute guy in American Folklore with the dimples and the hair?” and immediately facepalming.

Amy needed to learn to self-censor.

Sam, understandably, looked confused. Jess, on the other hand, stared at Amy for a moment before doubling over, laughing so hard she had to cling to Sam to stay upright, and saying between gulps of air and hysterical laughter “you mean that the caped crusader you had a crush on in first year was actually _Sam_!?”

Jess sounded disbelieving, and for a moment Amy wanted to defend Sam – he’s _totally_ crush worthy – but obviously Jess knew that because _she was dating him,_ and Amy still couldn’t get over that.

And then the first bit of Jess’ sentence filtered in.

“Jess!” she shrieked. “Fucking hell, make me out to be a freak why don’t you!? _Jesus_. And the cape wasn’t me!” Amy turned to Sam, frantically trying to make herself seem less weird. “The cape wasn’t me, you gotta believe me. I had you with firearms and throwing knives – Oh shit…”

She cast around wildly before taking a deep breath, turning to Sam and politely saying “if you will excuse me for a minute.” She then turned around, found the nearest wall, banged her head gently on it three times, turned around again with a smile on her face, came back to where Sam and Jess were standing and held out her hand with a perky “Hi, pleased to meet you! Jess talks about you all the time!”

Sam huffed out a disbelieving laugh and took her hand saying “likewise” while unfurling the most goddamn blinding grin she’d ever seen. Jess was still giggling into his shoulder and Amy’s smile relaxed into something more genuine.

“Before you ask, yes I had a crush on you in first year. But it’s not my fault, you’re cute. And I wouldn’t ask about the cape thing, it’s highly embarrassing for all involved and is mainly your girlfriend’s fault.” Amy barrelled over Jess’ indignant “Hey!”  with “Oh and by the way, these are my flatmates, Elle and Warren.”

  
**FALL (2004)**

She was in the basement canteen of the library one weekend at the beginning of her third year when she overheard two guy’s chatting about the ‘slipping standards of Stanford’. One was complaining about the amount of scholarships the college put on; “And most of these guys don’t even need the money! You know I heard that one scholarship baby – pre-law or med or something fucking _important_ and on a full fucking ride – hustles pool downtown for books! I bet you the dick spends his scholarship on hookers in Tijuana or something.  And that’s just what this country needs, more lawyers who’ll end up spending tax payers’ money on hookers. God, I should have gone to Harvard.”

_Yeah you should have, you entitled, presumptuous asshole._

-:|:-

Amy was going out of her fucking mind with this thing. Why the hell had she decided that taking History of Colonial Latin America had been a good idea? She hadn’t read so much since… well. She didn’t even know. And that was fucking impressive in and of itself, because Amy read _a lot_. Jesus, if that was what she got for being smart and wanting to be well informed, shit, she’d rather just sit at home watching TV. And right before Thanksgiving as well! Her professors were _evil_.

And _of course_ the library was full. She’d thought she’d got lucky, having relatively few December exams, but apparently not.

Amy was going room to room, carrying seven… no eight! books on colonial Latin America, her bookbag and her laptop, and having absolutely no luck at all finding a free seat. That was until, up on the fourth floor, in a lovely little room full of law journals and dust, she found what was probably the last free seat in the whole library. OK, so it was on a shared table but the guy was cute, so that was alright.

And the guy was Sam. Shit. That was awkward. Was that awkward? She hoped it wasn’t going to be awkward. She had fifteen thousand words to write, in the form of three essays, in a week. This really needed to be not-awkward.

Hold on, why would it be awkward? Amy didn’t know any more. Shit, she was going insane.

“Um, hey Sam. You mind if I sit here?”

Sam blinked up at her for a second, before seemingly placing her face and saying “Amy! Hi! Yeah, go ahead.”

“Thanks. Um… you mind?” Amy waved her hands vaguely at the stacks of… law journals? Was Sam planning to go into law? Huh.

Sam muttered a “Shit sorry. Yeah…” and began moving piles of books and journals onto the floor to free up space while Amy sat down and started up her laptop.

They worked in companionable silence for a while, the sound of Amy’s keyboard mixing with the scratch of Sam’s pen and the swipe of his highlighter. And every now and again, Amy came across a weird fact that she wanted to tell him, because that’s what she does when she comes across interesting facts (Pacific Ocean, remember?) but she wasn’t sure Sam would appreciate it. And anyway, he looked pretty engrossed. Or as engrossed as you could be when studying law.

By two Amy was getting restless and she wondered how the Hell Sam could sit still for as long as he was, because Amy had come in at eleven (she overslept, OK?) and was wandering for ages before she found this place. Sam was pretty settled by then. Maybe Amy’s just particularly fidgety.

“Hey Sam? You want to get lunch? I’m starving.”

Sam blinked up at her again. Amy was reminded of a puppy. Or maybe some night time creature that had been rudely and abruptly forced into sunlight. Or her cousin, whenever someone asked him anything harder than how the Wolverines were doing this season.

“C’mon Sam. You remember food? That thing, that you eat? When you’re hungry? Or depressed? Or drunk? Or bored?”

Sam put down his pen and raised an eyebrow at her. Amy grinned.

“You know, with the nom nom and the…” she pulled a chipmunk face with extra wide eyes.

Sam snorted a laugh. “Jess was so right about you, you know? You’re ridiculous.”

“‘Amazing’, Sam. The word you’re looking for is ‘amazing’. Now c’mon. Hungry.”

Sam sighed and shuffled his stuff around, shutting his laptop and grabbing his bag. He then frowned at the table. “Um, if we leave, how long do you think it’ll take for someone to come and take our table?”

“Aah. I hadn’t thought of that.”

Sam smiles. “See? Not just a pretty face.”

“Pfft. Not even a pretty face.”

“I’m sorry, was I or was I not the guy you crushed on in first year? Because Jess tells me things, and they involve more than just capes.”

Sam was fucking _smirking_ and Amy was going to kill Jess. “Oh. My. God. Seriously? You… seriously? I am going to kill Jessica Lee Moore. Seriously. I mean, you’d have awesome adorable kids, but really? You’re never going to get there because I am going to kill her and then maybe you and I will feel _no guilt_.”

And now Sam was laughing at her. Great.  She hit him on the arm with the heaviest book she could find. “Fine! See if I compliment you ever again.”

Sam just grinned. “Yeah, yeah. So, any ideas on how to keep opportunistic library goers from stealing our seats?”

Amy glared at him some more before starting to pile all their books onto the table. “Pile the books up and then I’ll leave a note.”

Sam looked dubious. “A note? Seriously?”

“An _awesome_ note. The note to end all notes. No one will steal our seats once they’ve read my note.” She grabbed a piece of paper and scribbled on it, folding it once and making it stand up on top of the pile of books.

Sam leant over to read it. “‘Steal our seats and I swear (by my pretty floral bonnet) I will end you’? What?”

Amy grinned. “It’s from Firefly, the world’s most awesome TV show. Making this the Note to End All Notes.” Sam just looked at her.

“What?”

He continued looking, just with added eyebrow.

“Oh my God, no. Jesus, you’re pulling the Jess-face.”

“Oh? And what’s the Jess-face?” asked Sam, with a ridiculous faux-innocent look.

“The ‘isn’t-my-pet-geek-adorable-in-her-geekiness’ face. Jess patented that face. You’re not allowed to have that face.”

Sam laughed and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, leading her out of the room. “You’re a special brand of bizarre, you know that right?”

“Oh my God! That’s what she said!”

Sam stopped and turned to look at her, wearing the biggest smile she’d seen in ages. “And _that_ was the worst ‘that’s what she said’ joke I have _ever heard_.” And suddenly Amy was laughing so hard she had to cover her face with her hands to minimise the death glares they were already getting from other library users. Sam ushered her out of the library as quickly as possible and, laughing like crazy, she dragged him to the nearest café with a choked out “Jesus, I’m going insane. I need food.”

For the remainder of the exam period (otherwise known as That Time Amy Substituted Exams with Evil Professors), Amy and Sam studied together on the fourth floor. Sam would always get there when the library opened, and would always stay after Amy left at about 7 in the evening. Amy would remind him to eat, and Sam would put up with her telling him interesting facts every hour or so. Sometimes Jess would sit with them for a while, but she wouldn’t stay for long (Jess had told her that she and Sam had an inability to “work constructively in the library” – complete with eyebrow wiggles and Amy’s shrieked “ _I did not need to know that!_ ”).

Every lunch time Amy would leave her note out on the desk, much to Sam’s amusement.

And one Saturday morning, when Amy came into the library, she found a random guy sitting across from Sam. And when Sam said “that’s her” the random guy just picked up her note, waved it at her, said “No power in the ‘verse can stop me”, saluted and left the room grinning.

It easily made the Top Five Best Geek Moments of Amy’s life.

  
**WINTER (2004/2005)**

By their third year, Warren had become the go-to guy for Stanford’s most ridiculous rumours, and most of the time Amy wasn’t even sure if they were genuine or if he just made shit up. For instance; he enjoyed telling people about the crazy guys in the Classics department who were trying to bring back Latin as a spoken language – which was fine, if very strange. But the great thing, Warren told everyone, was that apparently one day a random not-Classics-guy had passed them in the corridor or something, overheard them, and turned round to correct them on proper Latin pronunciation and verb conjugation. Or something.

-:|:-

The whole thing had been planned after the Christmas holidays, because Michael had come back saying “If I have to spend any more time with Jack fucking Picante I am going to kill someone. Possibly him.”

(Michael’s parents had got divorced when he was 17. Amy thought that the phrase ‘it’s complicated’ was a gross understatement when it came to Michael’s relationship with his family now. He hated his step dad like burning, but loved his mom and sister just as fiercely. It _was_ complicated. Just because it’s an understatement doesn’t make it less true.)

Anyway, they were planning to spend a couple of days during Spring Break somewhere in the Mojave Desert. Someone knew someone who was allowing them to camp out on some distant ranch land and about twelve of them were planning to go. There had been some debate as to whether they should go to the coast but, as someone had pointed out, lying on a beach was only fun for so long. So ranch land it was.

However, by the time Spring Break rolled round, only seven people were actually going; Amy, Warren, Sam and Jess, Michael and Michaels’ friends Amrit and Solomon. Elle was going back to Boulder for her sister’s birthday, Jess’ friend Becky was going to St. Louis with her brother Zach and the remainder of Michael’s friends had bailed for one reason or another. One of them was the ‘someone who knew someone’, but they’d been assured that no one minded if they turned up to the ranch anyway.

Zeke wasn’t coming because that would be awkward, seeing as he and Amy had split up before Christmas for reasons that included, but were not limited to, the fact that Amy had come to the conclusion that she really, really hated European soccer. It hadn’t been amicable, per se, but she was sure they’d get over it enough to be friends given time. It wasn’t awful.

This was how Amy found herself crammed into the back of a small, battered Chevy on the I-5 listening to Queen far too loudly (now Amy understood that thing about Queen. _There was nothing but Queen in the car_. It was terrifying) and fearing for her life because _Jesus_ , Warren drove like a maniac.

Sharing a car with Sam was weird, because he’d occasionally recount, in his usual vague way, journey’s he seemed to have taken with his family; odd things he’d seen in small town America that everyone was sure he was making up. It wasn’t until he mentioned a place two towns over from where Amy grew up in Michigan that she began to think that maybe he was telling at least some of the truth. It made Sam the most well-travelled person she’d ever met, and the whole journey was funnier due to his evident frustration at Michael’s navigational skills in the car in front.

The place where they finally decided to pitch their tents was beautiful. It seemed to be miles from anywhere, with acres of sky stretching into forever and, joy of joys, the small lake that they had been reliably informed no one minded them swimming in. The fact that they found the lake was a minor miracle. Michael was terrible at reading maps and even worse at following directions, but had insisted that he was to be the leading car. In fact, the only thing funnier than Amrit recounting Michael’s many directional failings was watching Sam trying to get in and out of Warren’s small car.

After setting up camp, they were all at a bit of a loss as to what to do. There was so much space and everything seemed to go on for ever and there was _nothing._ They all just stood around as if collectively saying “what now?” until Amy, deciding that madness was definitely called for at this particular moment, bounced slightly and with a yell just started _running,_ heading towards the two trees on the edge of the lake, laughing and calling over her shoulder “Race you!” and using their branches as leverage to hurl herself into the water.

Which turned out not to be such a great idea as the water was only about three feet deep, and that shit _hurt._

The minute Warren saw what happened, he tripped over he was laughing so hard, and everything descended into madness from there, because seeing someone flail like Warren? Guaranteed to cause hysterics. Even better, Michael hadn’t been able to stop in time, and had careened head first into the lake next to her. Amy was spluttering and trying to breathe through the water and the laughter and Jess was holding her sides and shaking.

And that was it. Michael and Amy pulled themselves out of the lake and everyone decided to get stuff ready; putting up tents and lighting disposable BBQs and getting out the cooler with the beer. They spent the next few days relaxing, doing absolutely _nothing_ and enjoying it immensely.

Hours were spent chatting and messing around with whatever people had brought with them: soccer balls, footballs, volleyballs, decks of cards, Frisbees, water pistols. They’d go swimming in the lake and lounge in the sun and read and draw and just… relax. In the evenings, they’d sit around their small campfire and listen to Solomon play guitar, or Michael and Amrit tell the most fucking ridiculous ghost stories. They’d learned immediately that letting Sam tell ghost stories was a bad idea, not because he told bad ghost stories, rather that he told them so well they were actually unsettling. And that wasn’t relaxing at all, so hearing Amrit talk about drowning in rivers of blood was much better.

“It was a dark, dark night…”

Warren was sniggering like a five year old. It was creepy.

“…Two men were sitting around a fire. One man says to the other man ‘Tell me a scary story!’ so the other man began… ‘it was a dark, dark night’…”

Everyone groaned and laughed and Amrit continued, grinning her head off.

“…‘Two men were sat around a fire. One man says to the other man ‘tell me a scary story!’ so the other man began. It was a dark, dark argh –!”  Solomon and Michael lunged at Amrit in an effort to shut her up and Jess was giggling into Sam’s shoulder.

Occasionally they’d play card games, though Jess immediately warned against betting money when playing Sam. They’d drink tequila and get loud and rowdy and when Sam and Jess looked as though they were getting a bit too… _involved_ , Warren would throw lime skins at them and drag everyone over to the lake ‘so the love birds can have some _alone time_ ’ wiggling his fingers and sniggering when Jess flipped him the bird.

“Just keep it down you fuckers! It’s a tent remember? We don’t want the Grand Opera of Sam and Jess thank you very much!”

But really, that didn’t happen much, and the fact that about five minutes later they both tended to turn up at the lake with more tequila and limes suggested that neither were that inconsiderate, or particularly big on exhibitionism.

Nevertheless, that didn’t stop Michael’s comment of “Well Jesus Sam, that was quick. You need to work on your stamina, man.”

Sam was totally justified throwing him in the lake.

The night before they were due back Warren convinced Sam, Michael and Solomon to help him build a bonfire, a proper one. They collected as much wood as they could find and, thanks to Sam’s mad pyro skills, had a decent blaze going in time to watch the sun set. Soon the only light they had came from the bonfire, the disposable BBQ having long since burned out. However, the reason for Warren’s persistence on the matter of the fire only became clear when, grinning madly, he returned from the lock box in Michael’s pickup with a huge crate of fireworks.

“Happy birthday, Amy,” he said, grinning.

Amy was gaping at him. “It’s not my birthday yet.”

“Yeah I know. But this is part of mine, Elle’s and Michael’s gift. Elle’s fucking pissed that she’s missing it but whatever. She’ll be there for the actual day, with the awesomely geeky presents we’ve got planned.”

“But – ” Amy couldn’t get her brain to function. She’d told Elle about this in the first year. How she wanted a firework display, just for her. How she’d loved watching them on New Year’s and the Fourth of July as they exploded over Lake Michigan. “Goddammit Warren, you’re gonna make me cry.”

She looked around the group. Michael’s grin was a twin of Warren’s, Amrit, Solomon and Jess looked happy, if a little confused, and Sam… Sam looked caught somewhere between really fucking happy, and really, really sad.

As the fireworks went off, Amy found herself sitting alone next to Sam for a few minutes while Jess had a go lighting them up. He hadn’t offered to light any, though he had let Warren use his zippo, and he looked as though he was enjoying it almost as much as Amy was. _Almost_. There was this look in his eyes and a tilt to his mouth that suggested that this wasn’t just something happening right now for him; that this was something that he’d done before, and he was remembering.

After one particularly spectacular explosion, Amy leaned over to him. “Hey Sam, you alright?”

He continued to look up, silent for a while, before turning to her and saying “I did this once,” with the same odd smile on his face. He didn’t elaborate and Amy didn’t press. Sam was allowed his secrets. Most people had given up asking, and it wasn’t as if he was perpetually closed up. It was just a Sam thing; you never got much from him if you asked.

You didn’t get much from him if you didn’t ask either. But no one really minded; that was just Sam.

  
**SPRING (2005)**

There were some Stanford rumours that just kept going, getting bigger and bigger until you no longer knew what was true anymore. This was one of those rumours; a year ago a guy had won a hell of a lot of money off some hicks in a dive bar far off the beaten track and well out of the city limits. The only reason this rumour even got back to Stanford was because, though no one ever got a name, someone in the bar had got the part where the kid was a Stanford student. In fact, the chain of people it must have taken to get the rumour back to Stanford was enough for Amy to doubt its credibility, but people sure loved bringing it up.

This time it was Mel, and Warren was telling her it was “so last year” and Sam was looking sort of surprised; like he’d never heard it before.

-:|:-

Just after college closed for the year, Amy’s family came to Palo Alto to visit. Mainly it was because her brother Kyle had wanted to see where his big sister lived. Their mom and dad had helped her move off-campus but Kyle had never seen the place, and he wanted to see San Francisco. _And_ he was turning 17 so their parents had figured they may as well kill two birds with one stone – or three birds with a trip out west – and had decided to come visit. Kyle wasn’t particularly pleased that he was being _chaperoned_ (“ _Amy_! They’re coming with! Tell them they can’t come with!”) but Amy hadn’t seen her folks since Christmas so she really didn’t mind.

They were coming first to Palo Alto and staying just under a week, with her parents in a hotel and Kyle staying with Amy. Then all four of them were going to have a week in San Francisco before flying back to Michigan for the summer.

Amy had been looking forward to these two weeks for quite a while now. Her Finals had been murder and after a Lord of the Rings marathon with Elle _and_ finally sitting Jess down to marathon _Firefly_ about a week later, Amy felt she should actually get out and _do stuff._ So Amy and Kyle were going to embarrass themselves learning to surf one day and Elle was planning to convince Amy’s dad to barbeque for them in their tiny garden.

Her mom had already decided that they had to walk to the Dish in the foothills, something that Amy had never done in the three years she’d been at Stanford. Her mom had suggested that some of her friends come along as well, but Elle was working that day and Warren had already gone home to New Orleans. In the end, only Michael was free to tag along, equipped with a bat and mitt so he, Kyle and her dad could muck around while her mom grilled her on how her Finals had gone – as if Amy hadn’t rung home and told her after the last exam.

They’d just dropped Michael off at his apartment and were on their way to dinner, walking past a little park commonly used by Stanford students for study in the summer, when Amy saw Sam sitting under a tree reading. Amy remembered that Jess worked in a coffee shop nearby, so figured he was probably waiting for her shift to finish.

“Hold on a sec guys, I’m just gonna say hi to Sam.” Amy waved her hand in Sam’s general direction before jogging over. He was so absorbed in his book that he only noticed her when she was standing right next to him, her shadow falling across the pages.

Sam smiled up at her, shielding his eyes from the sun. “Oh, hey Amy.”

“Hey yourself, you waiting for Jess?” Amy squatted down next to him.

“Yeah,” Sam grinned. “Just catching up on some reading.” He tilted the book up so Amy could read the cover. “How come you’re still here? Aren’t you going back to Grand Traverse for the summer?”

Amy was always surprised with the little details that Sam remembered about people. Once Sam had given her a battered copy of _Good Omens_ that someone had left at the café he worked in, simply because he remembered that she’d lost her copy and had never got round to replacing it despite working in a bookshop. She couldn’t even remember when it was that she told him she came from Grand Traverse. Spring break probably.

“Well, yeah, I am. But my folks are visiting right now so…”

She gestured towards her now-approaching family and they both stood up, Sam brushing the grass off the seat of his pants. Amy suddenly realised he was taller than her whole family by about six inches. Kyle looked a little freaked out. You’d think he’d never seen a tall person before. Jeez.

“Um guys? This is my friend Sam. Sam, this is my mom, dad and brother, Kyle.”

Sam greeted everyone with a handshake and gamely engaged her parents in small talk, smiling shyly and calling them ‘sir’ and ‘ma’am’. Amy reckoned most mothers dreamt about their daughters marrying guys like Sam. Her mom asked questions about his classes and how he liked California and her dad made a joke about baseball which made Amy and Kyle cringe, but Sam smile. Sam skilfully avoided all questions about his family and conversation shifted to logging in Michigan or something equally random.

Amy wondered if her family noticed they’d learnt nothing more about Sam than how he was enjoying his classes and California. Amy was used to it of course, and no longer found it weird. But she had to admit she’d found it odd in the beginning, before she decided that it didn’t matter; Sam was a nice guy whether she knew about his past or not.

She glanced at her watch. “Sorry Sam, we’ve got a reservation for seven so we’ve got to go, but you’re staying here all summer, right?”

“Well, I’m going to stay with Jess for a month but basically, yeah.”

“Ok well, I’m gonna want to see you before I leave, are you both free on the 14th? We’ll go to Kenny’s or something.”

“I think we are, but just call Jess to make sure. It was a pleasure to meet you both,” Sam added, turning to her parents and offering his hand again. She gave him a hug goodbye before following after the rest of her family.

“So that was Sam, right?” her mom asked as they left him behind. “Why is he staying at college all summer?”

“Uh, well. He doesn’t have a family? Or… I’m assuming he does, because if he didn’t I figure he would have actually said.” Amy really didn’t know what to say. “Sam… I dunno. He doesn’t talk about them. Or maybe he does with his girlfriend or something, but not with me. We’re not _that_ close. But he’s a really nice guy, and dead smart. He’s here on a scholarship. Full ride! Crazy right?”

Her mom frowned. “So what? He had a falling out with them?”

“I dunno. We don’t ask, he doesn’t tell.”

Her mom was quiet for a while and Amy figured that would be the end of it, but; “So, where’s he from?”

“Huh?” For some reason Amy wasn’t expecting any of this.

“Where’s he from?”

Amy frowned. “I – don’t know.”

“Well, he must come from _somewhere_ ,” Kyle interjected, having finished talking about college applications with dad. “Or is he like an alien type thing? From the Land of the Freakishly Tall.”

Amy socked him on the arm. “Shut up, dude. Don’t get height envy.”

“That’s not even a thing.”

“And yet you have it,” Amy replied loftily. “Yet another thing in the long list of things that make you a freak.” Amy grinned. She’d missed her brother.

“Oi - !” Kyle mock-punched her on the arm.

“Hey, you two. Quit it. We’re trying for a nice time here, remember?” her dad said with a smile.

Both she and Kyle grinned identical butter-wouldn’t-melt grins at their dad until he huffed out a laugh and Kyle surreptitiously dug his fingers under Amy’s ribs. Amy yelped and turn on her brother, both of them pushing and shoving and generally acting like five year olds until Kyle stepped off the sidewalk hard and Amy had to pull him out of the way of a car, their parents throwing out words of warning and admonishing them for being so careless.

“Can’t take you anywhere,” their dad quipped, smiling, while their mom said “Honestly, at least try not to get run over. It would ruin the vacation,” then adding “You didn’t answer my question though, Amy.”

“Huh?” Amy couldn’t remember a question right now. He ribs were aching from laughing too much and she felt a little jittery from the adrenaline. Stupid little brothers.

“You’re articulate today, aren’t you? About your friend Sam and where he’s from.”

“I don’t know, like I said. The Midwest somewhere, I think. Central. He mentioned once that he moved around a lot as a kid.” Amy dodged some guys on skateboards. “He actually lived in Petoskey for a while. Weird right? When we were driving to the Mojave he was telling us all these odd stories. Or like, anecdotes. I assumed they were made up, but he knew about that weird stuff that happened there back when I was like 14 and I figured that wouldn’t have made news outside of the Grand Traverse area.”

“You thought they were made up?” her mom broke in. “Does he make a lot of stuff up?”

Amy frowned at her mom. Where the hell was this coming from? Who looked at Sam and thought _there’s a guy with something to hide_? “No, mom. Jeez. He’s just a guy. Nice, smart, madly in love with his girlfriend. Wants to be a lawyer, knows really good ghost stories but apparently doesn’t like Halloween.” For some reason Amy didn’t like the fact that her mom doubted Sam. Amy thought it might have something to do with the way Sam sometimes smiled at Jess; like he couldn’t believe he could have something so good. “He’s just a regular guy.”

“But you don’t know where he comes from.”

Amy was starting to get annoyed. “Does it really matter, mom? I mean, what difference would it make? He’s a good guy.”

“But...”

“Leave it, mom.”

  
**FALL (2005)**

Despite what it looked like, him driving a shitty truck and all, Michael _loved_ classic cars. It was one of those things that everyone just had to put up with and hope he’d drop the subject quickly. And if he didn’t, well, they’d gotten good at ignoring him. He’d come in going “There is the most beautiful Mustang up on the music campus right now” or “It’s that Chevy again! I saw it like, two months ago too. Fucking gorgeous car. I’d kill to have a car like that.”

Amy didn’t know anything about cars. If she thought very hard, she could remember what “Chevy” was short for.

-:|:-

Basically, Halloween was a chance for Elle, Amy and Warren to completely geek out and dress up as their favourite movie/TV/comic book characters. Occasionally they did scary, but most of the time it was wizards and superheroes and elves. This year Elle was going as a long haired version of Starbuck and Warren had somehow managed to get hold of a red jump suit thing and was going around ‘miss- hearing’ everyone and pretending to be Jubal Early from Firefly.

Amy had wanted to go as Zoe Washburne but that wasn’t going to work (“Dammit, why can’t I be black so I can be Zoe?” “Hey, I’m black, you think I can be Zoe?” “Um… not female enough Warren.” “What, you think I can’t pull it off?” “Fine Warren, you’re plenty female enough. But not _badass_ enough.” “You cut me real deep Amy”) so she’d gone for a female Legolas, or something similar which involved a surprising amount of leg and leather. Or maybe it was an Amy-version of Zoe. Just not actually Zoe because part of Zoe’s power was clearly in the hair and Amy really couldn’t pull that off. More’s the pity.

They’d started off at the student union – complete with pumpkins and fake cobwebs – and had slowly drifted from bar to club to bar, depending on who was where to drag you to what. Or something. Amy wasn’t a drinker per se, but there had been a decent amount of Jack Daniels around, and she wasn’t exactly what you’d call _sober_.

At some point she had lost Warren and Elle and replaced them with a guy in a Batman outfit (original) and someone who looked really familiar, but who she couldn’t place. Luckily though, she’d lost them and replaced them with Sam and Jess who she’d (literally) bumped into in a bar with horrible lighting and playing terrible RnB. Jess was wearing a skimpy nurse’s outfit (“That’s not scary, Jess! But _waterproof_. Handy. Where are my arrows?”) and Sam looked like Sam – which is to say, dressed in plaid and looking slightly amused.

It was three in the morning when Sam decided that both she and Jess had had enough and they really needed to get home before he had to carry them both. There was a palaver with ringing round to find Warren and Elle, to ensure that they were fine and knew that Amy was fine and that Sam and Jess were fine and taking her home and _no really guys I’m fine. Are you fine? Are you? Yes, I’m fine. Fine. Finefinefine. Shiny! Yes. Fine. Bye!_

They were walking past another bar, in the shitty end of town but somehow on the way home, when a bunch of drunk and rowdy guys were thrown out onto the street. One was fighting with the bouncer and another was yelling incomprehensively, waving a bottle around and swearing every second word. Jess shrank into Sam’s side and Amy clutched his arm, swaying and worrying that they really should have called a cab, while Sam just kepts walking, making soothing noises and telling them it was going to be OK.

And it was fine, for about a hundred yards, but the drunk guys were following them, and one started making comments about Jess’ legs; rude and crude and slurring violently. Sam encouraged them to walk a little quicker but one of the guys was suddenly behind them, making a grab for Amy’s quiver (why the hell didn’t she dump the quiver?) and knocking hard into Sam’s shoulder.

What happened next was almost too fast for Amy’s drunken mind to keep up with. Jess grabbed her arm and Sam gently pushed them both towards the wall, telling them to “Stay still, I’ll handle this”. And Amy didn’t quite follow, but there was a beat of stillness as Sam tried talking to the guys and then there was a fist flying towards his face and a blur of movement and suddenly the drunk guys were trying to prop up their dazed leader, and there was a guy possibly out cold on the sidewalk and a knife skittering towards the gutter and Sam was saying “C’mon, it’s OK guys” and putting his arm round Amy’s waist and guiding her down the street, Jess following with her hand in Sam’s.

And Amy thought; Jess _does not look suitably freaked out_. Is this supposed to be normal? Are all guys supposed to turn into Batman when the sun goes down? Because if so, Warren and Zeke and every other guy in her life had clearly not got the goddamned memo. Jesus _fuck_. What just _happened?_

Amy had never felt so scared in her life; adrenaline spiking and turning her legs to liquid. In the thirty seconds it took for Sam to deal with the guys, her mind had completely shut down. Sam had checked them both over to make sure they were OK and then he and Jess took Amy home and put her to bed, promising that one of them would check on her the next morning.

It was just as she was about to fall asleep that Amy’s brain kicked into action.

Jess _hadn’t freaked out_. Jess had _known_ that Sam could do that. Jess… Jess was the girl whose boyfriend had ninja-d the would-be rapist back in February. Holy shit.

And then she twigged something else. There had been a knife. Not a big one, it had looked legal size (for all that she could remember when it was quick and she was drunk) but there had still been one. And Sam had known what to do with it. And Amy knew he was a good shot too, cos Warren had recognised him as the guy that completely owned Chase Cohen that one time, also making him “the guy from Paige’s Chem class who was good with the acid.”

What if Sam was the guy that… whatshername said had a knife back in first year? The ‘tall and quiet’ one on the floor above. Not a great leap to assume he was that guy. Would make all the scars Jess said he had seem… well, not _logical,_ but it would make sense. And if you knew how to use a knife, hopefully you should be at least passably good at first aid. It’s logic, y’know? So. Acid.

And Jess had said that he didn’t talk about his family much. Did that also make him the guy who’d come to Stanford with only two bags and a laptop? The guy who’d spent the first summer in college dorms, not going home? That seemed extreme… but he always stayed with Jess during the holidays, or Becky and Zach. And he worked a lot. And Brady once said that Sam had spent part of their first Christmas holiday at his massive fuck-off house in LA. Which was _odd_.

And then Amy remembered that time in first year when she and Elle kept ending up on That Street while looking for That Exhibition (the exhibition also got capitals, because they never ended up going). And how they’d come across Sam with Becky, Zach and Brady (or Dimples with Blonde Girl and Frat Boys One and Two as they were known at the time) outside that coffee shop. And how Becky had yelled something about Sam being a card shark. And then about those guys in the basement canteen of the library; the ones talking about scholarships and being general fucktards. And how one had said that he’s heard of a scholarship kid – “pre-law or med or something fucking _important_ and on a full fucking ride” – who hustled pool downtown for book money.

Sam had a full ride scholarship. And Sam was pre-law.

And if Sam was a card shark, hustling pool didn’t sound outside the realms of possibility.

And scholarship money – even a full ride – wouldn’t cover your living costs if you’re staying at college over the holidays. Another reason for him to work the whole summer.

She was well aware that _all_ those rumours being actually about Sam was _so fucking unlikely_ that it was ridiculous that her brain was even going there. But it _fit_. In a weird, drunken-and-slightly-freaked-out way, it all made _sense_.

Amy was all ready to Spanish Inquisition Sam when she saw him next, but it was Jess who came over the next morning. Amy couldn’t get her words out (how do you start asking something like that anyway? ‘Oh so Jess, have you ever thought your super awesome and sweet boyfriend might be a spy for the CIA?’ Shit like that doesn’t fly. And why did her internal monologue sound like Warren? Damn that boy) but Jess just asked if she was OK and then apologised, saying “I’ve gotta get to the library, this essay is kicking my ass.” And instead of asking the _glaringly obvious_ question here (“you’re going to the library after drinking till 3am?”) Amy just randomly said “Is Sam OK?”

Jess looked tired and a little worried. “Um yeah, I think so. He’s been having these really bad nightmares lately, and his brother turned up last night. He’s gone away for the weekend. Family emergency.”

“Sam has a _brother_?” Amy choked out in surprise. Then “Wait, _what_? He’s left for the weekend? But his interview is on Monday! He better not miss that.”

Jess grinned her my-boyfriend-is-awesome-and-I’m-so-in-love-with-him grin. “He won’t,” Jess assured her, before giving her a hug and leaving with a quick goodbye.

Amy just gaped and, in her head, returned to her original question.

_Sam has a brother?_

-:|:-

It had begun as a joke rather than an actual rumour – they were basically joined at the hip by fourth year so it didn’t really take a great leap of the imagination. Everyone figured that it would happen after graduation – and people would tease one or the other, making her smile and him blush – but everyone agreed that it would happen, that it _had_ to happen, that if there were any two people in the world that could personify “college sweethearts”, it was them. It was almost a given.

By fourth year most of their friends were convinced. Sam would ask Jess to marry him and Jess would say yes.

No one ever found out if they were right.

Not Jess. Not Sam. Not anyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m a Brit. I’ve never been to Stanford, or even America for that matter. I know nothing about the American university system. I know nothing about what courses you can take or when the holidays are. I had to look up when Thanksgiving was. I had to keep reminding myself that it’s “apartment” not “flat” and “movie” not “film”. I keep forgetting you can’t drink before 21 (sucks to be you).
> 
> Basically, this could be horribly inaccurate, in which case, let me know! [hells_half_acre](http://archiveofourown.org/users/hells_half_acre/works), the wonderful person that she is, Ameri-picked it for me. However, she is Canadian, so it’s not fool proof.
> 
> OH and if anyone was wondering, Amy’s Halloween costume was based on a mix between [this character](http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lpzc6pRg701qeqx7ko1_500.jpg) and [this character](http://29.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_loxnnlXhjz1qeqx7ko1_r3_500.jpg), both created by [gingerhaze](http://gingerhaze.tumblr.com/) on tumblr. One day I too shall dress like this for Halloween, and everything will be shiny.


End file.
